If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them. . For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. Womanhood is sacred to me. ‘You wouldn’t know one end of a pistol from the other. There was no answer.
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